Rising From The Ashes
by helios101
Summary: (Finnick/OC)It took everything she had to win the 73rd Hunger Games,but Taya Abernathy did it. Only,the trials were just beginning.Loving his daughter more than anything,Haymitch approaches District 4's champion,the Capitol's Darling,with a helpless plea:Help Taya survive what's to come. And that's precisely what Finnick does…he just never expected her to turn his world upside down
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games

…

 _Summary: (Finnick Odair/OC) Taya Abernathy is crowned victor of the 73rd Hunger Games, and now, the real trials begin. For like all beautiful, charming victors, there are those in the Capitol willing to pay the exorbitant sums required to buy their company for the night. None is more familiar with that horrific truth than Finnick Odair, the most popular victor the Games have ever produced._

 _Loving his daughter more than anything, Haymitch approaches District Four's champion with a helpless plea: Help his daughter. Help Taya survive the insanity that is a victor's life if they survive the arena._

 _And that's precisely what Finnick does._

…

"People of the Capitol, I give you our victor, Taya Abernathy!"

Gasping futilely against the crushing weight of the corpse on top of her, Taya pushed desperately with her arms, willing the boy from District 1 to roll off of her.

But he refused to budge.

The smell of blood was pungent. That thick tang of iron in the blistery cold air; a scent she'd become all too familiar with over the last five days.

Five days of pure hell on Earth.

"Get off," The hoarse, trembling plea barely registered with her own ears, let alone the multiple cameras currently circling her, but Taya couldn't stop the words. "Get off. Please! Get him off!"

He'd strangled her to within an inch of her life.

Mere seconds ago. How was it possible that the hauntingly-still Career tribute splayed on top of her was only alive mere seconds ago?!

" _Stay down. Stay down," He panted above her, a crazed grin curling his lips as he watched Taya beat ineffectually at his face, his chest, his hands; anywhere that might force him to release her from death's grip. "That's right, sweetheart, can you feel the cold yet? That deep, dark pit of nothingness? I promise you, it's waiting there."_

 _Black spots swam in front of her eyes, widening with alarming speed._

 _She was going to die._

" _You know the first thing I'm going to do once I'm back in the Capitol?" Randall laughed breathlessly. "Take a bath. Being from District 12 I imagine you're at home amongst all this ice and snow, but I've always preferred heat to cold."_

 _The grip on her neck tightened and Taya couldn't have stopped the way her chest arced weakly off the frozen ground at her back if she'd tried, as if her body were trying to break some sort of surface to reach the precious air currently setting her lungs on fire._

" _Not long now," Randall wheezed, chuckling, his own impressive body sagging from exhaustion. "Not long."_

 _Her father's face flashed across her mind, blinding her with sudden, inescapable terror._

 _No._

 _No!_

 _She wouldn't,_ _ **couldn't**_ _, leave him alone!_

 _She refused to._

 _With energy she hadn't known her small body capable of finding, Taya clawed at the half frozen dirt. Digging. Tugging. Pulling._

 _She was all her father had left!_

 _Black dirt sprayed through the icy air as the rock came free._

 _So fixated was he with the way the light, even now, was draining from her eyes, Randall never saw the end coming._

 _Taya's arm swung up with every last iota of strength left in her body, the heavy stone connecting loudly with the boy's vulnerable temple._

 _All it took was one hit._

"Get him off, get him off, get him off me!" Inside, she was screaming. Outside, barely any sound escaped her horribly damaged throat.

She didn't know how long she lay there, trapped beneath the large body of the young man she'd murdered, but to Taya, time didn't matter.

It would always be too long.

"Hey, hey, well done, girlie," The excited squeals echoed like the canon in the arena, striking her skull. "Hold this to your mouth, that's right, like that. It'll help you breathe until we can fix that awful bruising around your neck, okay?"

The lights were too bright. The air suddenly warm.

It wasn't until Taya was being lifted to her feet by her elbow that awareness suddenly came back to her.

Time, reality, returned with a vengeance.

Stumbling down the hover plane's ramp, oxygen mask clutched to her face by the swarming medics twittering around her, Taya searched for only one thing.

Her father.

Where was her Dad?

…

Hands clasped furiously around the metal railing keeping him away from the colossal-sized television monitor, Haymitch had never felt more unhinged in all his life.

"She looks like a flailing fish on the deck of a boat," Johanna scoffed, picking at her nails.

A smack tore through the observation room before the truly feral snarl could do anything but contort Haymitch's face.

Flesh hitting flesh.

"Shut your mouth, Johanna," Chaff threatened lowly, towering over the glaring Johanna that had fallen to the floor, "No one wants your comments."

He wanted nothing more than to turn and deliver unto Johanna the brutal beating such cruel words deserved, and Haymitch knew himself well enough to know that ordinarily he would have carried through with that impulse, but even for that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene in front of him.

The scene of his little girl being choked to death by a boy near three times her size while he was forced to do nothing but stand here and witness it being done.

"Someone's tetchy," Johanna's sassy rebuttal fell on deaf ears.

"I'm so sorry, Haymitch," Seeder whispered from beside him.

Pain shot down his neck from the force with which he was gritting his teeth, untold rage bubbling when he finally registered the conciliatory comment, but still, he did nothing.

Haymitch never looked away from the screen.

 _Please, baby girl,_ his mind whispered desperately, falling in on itself. _**Please**_.

"Is that-?"

"Oh my G-!"

"Shit, ye-!"

"Come on…"

Haymitch said nothing, saw _nothing_ but her hand; the way Taya's fingernails ripped and shredded against the hard Earth as inch-by-inch the rock broke free.

As soon as he heard the crack of stone against human bone, he knew.

She'd won.

His legs gave out.

Strong arms barely caught him in time, others around the observation room quickly running to Chaff's assistance as he tried to keep the father upright.

"Oh God," It wasn't a prayer; it wasn't anything so coherent as a prayer. "Oh God, God, God," Sobbing, Haymitch buried his face in his hands as wave after wave of emotion crashed down on his psyche, tearing it to pieces.

She was alive.

His baby was alive.

…

 _Hey! Please review! I'm so excited for this story!_


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games

…

Screaming, Taya launched herself upright, staring uncomprehendingly into the shadows dominating her bedroom, trying to make sense of what was real and what was dream.

Shuddering, she slowly let her body lean back, closing her eyes in exhaustion as her head made contact with the pillow.

Damn it.

She'd expected nightmares. When her mind had dared to explore what she'd do after surviving the games…she'd known to expect nightmares.

What she hadn't expected was the…delayed guilt…for lack of a better term.

When most people thought of Haymitch Abernathy, Taya knew, she knew that they didn't think him a fit father. Never had.

She'd been the product of one of her father's numerous attempts to forget the horrors he himself had suffered due to his own reaping. He hadn't loved her mother, she knew that too. But when he found out about _her_ , about the pregnancy, well, Taya remembered what her mother had often told her before she died.

'He was so happy, Taya. Never, ever, believe any different. Your Dad wanted you from the moment he knew you existed, but he was scared. But don't ever blame him for that, baby, not that. I always knew, he always made sure I knew that it was only because he was scared _for_ you, nothing else. He loves you, little love. He loves you just as much as I do.'

Her mother died in an accident a few days before her sixth birthday, but before that her father had been nothing but respectful and even _faithful_ to the mother of his only child. And if Haymitch Abernathy only loved Violet Knowles because of what she gave him – his daughter – he never treated her with anything but the utmost respect.

Still, most people in the district only saw his drinking and the lack of a mother, and they judged. But Haymitch was a victor of the Hunger Games, a Quarter Quell at that, they didn't have the power to do anything but whisper and grumble about unfit parents.

She stayed with him.

Running a hand across her brow, Taya brushed her long chocolate curls over her shoulder, hating the feel of slick sweat against her palm even as she hoped exposing the skin to the night air might cool her body.

Why was the guilt only hitting her now? She hadn't felt guilty in the arena. Not really. She'd been sad, when she'd had time for anything but blind panic and the all-powerful instinct to survive…but she'd never felt guilty for the four people she'd killed.

It had surprised the Capitol; Taya knew that too, to see her petite, doll-like figure purposefully cutting down the other tributes.

They should have known better.

Haymitch Abernathy was many things but generous towards the people of the Capitol he was not.

He'd had her training since she was eight, never trusting the Capitol not to exploit the crowd-pleasing idea of a victor's child in the games. And so he'd prepared her. With the money given to him from his own victory she'd never wanted for food as others in District 12 had – a sore point with many – and as a result she'd grown up as healthy as can be. The daily runs, jumps, endurance training only becoming more intense the older she became.

Taya knew that she should be considered a career tribute with her combat and survival skills but her Dad had made it very clear in the run-up to the games that she shouldn't reveal what she could do. To take the other tributes by surprise.

And that's precisely what she did. Because it was kill or be killed.

…So why was she feeling guilty?

Burying her face in her pillow, Taya hated herself for the tears that wouldn't seem to stop coming no matter how harshly she rebuked herself for them. No matter how much she rationalised her situation in the games.

It didn't stop the memories of those four bodies hitting the ground, ceasing to breathe.

And it didn't erase the scent of bitter iron that seemed to contaminate everything in her waking world.

The smell of freshly spilled blood.

…

"How'd you do?" Gale asked softly when Katniss came to a stop beside him, discreetly slipping the coins she'd earned from their morning hunt into her pocket.

"Alright," She murmured, sending him a small smile but nothing else.

She'd always been a person of few words.

"Well, I managed to sell everything," He grinned easily, hoping to buoy her spirits.

He received a rare chuckle in response for his efforts.

Katniss' eyes suddenly fixed on a small figure slipping inside the warm Hob; picking her out with the skill only a hunter of her calibre was capable of.

It wasn't hard to understand what had caught her attention.

Floating down the busy makeshift aisles of District 12's black market was a face everyone was more than familiar with, a face that had dominated their screens for weeks in the lead up and execution to the 73rd Hunger Games.

Taya Abernathy.

Even before her reaping she was an impossible girl to ignore, not least of which was due to who her father was, and, where she lived: the Victor's Village. In a place where everyone you knew struggled to meet the bare essentials of life, the money forever connected to Haymitch Abernathy was a foreign concept. Strange. Compelling…Hard to swallow.

But that was only half of it.

Ever since Gale could remember people had spoken of Taya Abernathy. Spoken of her vivaciousness, her cheeky charm and toothy grin. Her fearlessness. On her fifth birthday the little girl had snuck away from her mother and into the Hob, determined to find out what was so interesting and dangerous about the warehouse she'd been told never to enter. The story had made numerous rounds over the years, the amusement and tolerance of the event affecting even the coldest District traders. For five-year-old Taya Abernathy had seemingly ignored all the questioning glances and grumbles and bounced straight towards the colourful materials stall, wide blue eyes sweeping over the gleaming fabrics with awe.

Apparently, it took her parents a good five hours to find their wayward daughter. Violet Knowles, beside herself, had collected a then-tipsy Haymitch Abernathy and the pair had been running all over the District, searching frantically for their small child. They'd found her, it was said, perched up on a tall stool happily slurping away at some sort of broth the man behind the counter had finally broken down and served the adorable, moaning child, if only to shut her up. As it was, she'd been listening raptly to the tales of a group of tired miners that had only recently emerged from their day in the mines, at first cautious and then humouring the insistent girl's demands to know why they were all so dirty.

Five hours alone in the dangerous Hob and all that little girl had done was march from stall to stall, coaxing, charming, annoying and, on some specific occasions, browbeating the booth owners into explaining what they sold and answering her never-ending line of questions.

Her father had not been pleased.

"Think she'll buy anything?" Katniss' soft inquiry broke Gale out of his thoughts, bringing his attention back to the raven-haired young woman at this side.

Mouth pinched, back straight, Katniss' gaze never moved from the smiling Taya Abernathy as she greeted a few of the stall owners on her way down the aisle.

Running a hand through his hair, Gale almost sighed. Almost.

"Probably," He answered instead, keeping all other comments locked away.

"You'd think she'd help more, pass along all that Capitol money to those who really need it," Katniss muttered lowly, turning her back on the girl barely younger than herself without another word, dismissing her as she'd dismissed her all of her life. "It's not like she needs it."

Gale often wondered if Katniss realised that her quiet rebellion and dislike was completely unknown to the subject in question. Shaking his head, hitching up the bow on his shoulder, he followed in his friend's wake, knowing that she didn't care either way.

Still, glancing back over his shoulder, Gale couldn't pretend that he was indifferent to the victor of this year's Hunger Games. With her long brown curls and dark blue eyes, Taya Abernathy had never been short of attention.

He only wished he hadn't fallen into the same trap.

…

"She's fifteen," Haymitch growled through his teeth, snarling at the powerful figure on the holoscreen with far more heat and hate than most men would ever even dream of, let alone do. "Even you…"

"I assure you, Mr Abernathy, I don't intend for our victor to commence her duties in the Capitol until after the Victory Tour," President Snow smiled sibilantly, his finger circling the rim of a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. "And, of course, the months before the tour begins will be her own, as tradition dictates. However," Blue eyes hardened, "I feel it only fair for you to know now that I expect the young Miss Taya Abernathy to be prepared to fulfil her first client's wishes to the very best of her ability come her last stop on this years Victor Tour."

"You can't mean to-!"

" _Directly_ following the evenings events at my home in the Capitol, Mr Abernathy," President Snow clarified with glacial eyes; the polite tone and words coating the hideous subject of his orders only succeeding in transforming Haymitch's hate for the man into something even he hadn't believed himself capable of. "Your daughter is already in high demand, as I'm sure you can imagine. These months before the Victory Tour ends is a gift…don't forget that."

The threat couldn't have been more explicit.

If a fuss was made, timetables were easy to push up.

The screen abruptly cut off, the President ending the call.

…

 _What did you think?!_

 _Good/Not Good? Intriguing?_

 _I'd love to know!_


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